Downfall
by Kelly123
Summary: I didn’t consider that fact that her tone had been nervously hesitant, or that I was still in my boxers, or that our last meeting had been marked by tears and blood and hospital bed, or anything besides the fact that she was here, now, with me.TWOSHOT.
1. she said

Disclaimer: Degrassi's not mine, and so one and so forth.

Yet another One-Shot, they are my fav-or-ite! This one kinda ties in with the last fic I posted, "Evading." If you want to know how, I guess you'll have to read that one too, now won't you! I'm slightly apprehensive about this because it contains no dialogue, which I'm worried makes it seem rushed and simplistic. Well anyways, ENJOY!

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Looking back, though, I knew I was never cut out to be the maternal type.

I mean, I hadn't ever been the girl who "oohed" and "aahed" over other people's babies, asking breathlessly if I could hold the little bundle of joy with wistful "one of these days" stars in my eyes. I didn't jump at the opportunity to baby-sit, and I think I have offended quite a few parents by declining to spend the night in with their precious little tyke. But that's to say that I hated children, I thought they were great for some people... just not me. After all, I had had enough of playing mom to the woman who gave birth to me back while I was in High School, and now that I was in University it was time to focus on taking care of myself. That alone had proven to be a less-than-simple task on many an occasion. Stay away from liquor; alcoholism runs in the family. Stay away from sharp objects; old habits die hard. Stay away from boys in bands; musicians always break your heart.

But truly, that's how I got myself into this whole situation, by trying to look after myself and my future. I had lived up to Marco's diner prophesy, a journalism major of course, doing my best to ace my way through freshman exams. Where economics was concerned, however, it was never made clear to me how such a credit would help me in the world of reporting. But he seemed to have a knack for market trends, and we made plans to meet up for a cram session in his dorm after my last class got out on Tuesday evening. When I woke up naked in his bed Wednesday morning, I had the horrible sinking feeling that I wasn't going to do well on the exam I was to face in a few hours. When I was five days late the next month, I had the horrible sinking feeling that it wasn't due to being stressed over my grades. When I lay curled into a ball and sobbing against the stall of the community bathroom I had the horrible sinking feeling that the test wasn't wrong.

He seemed nice enough. He had wrapped what was supposed to be a comforting arm around my shoulders when they began to shake of their own accord. I had wanted so desperately not to cry in front of him, had wanted to appear strong and able enough to be capable of doing this on my own. I didn't want to need his help. Or Marco's or Ashley's or my mother's for that matter, though theycouldn't have done anything sincethey didn't know. Nobody knew.No one exceptme and the boy who sat stiffly beside me as I silently cursed myself for breaking down. The boy who didn't show up to our econ class the next day, who promptly dropped all his classes and left University in the week that followed my confession. I really should have seen it coming though; after all, everyone I ever need just ends up leaving. It sounds pathetically and predictably emo, but it's true.

It was down at a convenience store in walking distance of campus that I heard the voice of one of those ghosts from the past, one of the many I believed to have walked out of my life. I was buying that nutritionally-void white bread favored by second graders for peanut-butter and banana sandwiches, one of the few food items I could manage to keep down in the horrid morning sickness that plagued my first trimester. The sound of his familiar but long-absent tone caused me to lose my grip on the change that the bored, blonde cashier had just placed into my palm, and it clinked noisily to the floor. Gentle man that he was, he quickly knelt to scoop it up, giving me a chance to place the loaf instinctively over my belly, though the logical side of my brain knew full-well that my two-month pregnancy wasn't the least bit noticeable yet. Trying my best of achieve a smile that would be perceived as casual, I accepted the coins and deposited them into my pocket. He then leaned forward to hug me and I closed my eyes in silent reverie while returning it, though still paranoid enough to make sure that our middle halves did not touch.

He asked how school was going and I have him a glossed-version, choosing to omit a few significant details. Class was going okay, the city was fantastic, and no, I wasn't seeing anyone. As for him, everything was finally falling right into place. He was playing a show somewhere downtown tonight, one of many stops of a tour of college towns his label had put together with the best of their new up-and-comers. Their bus had stopped here to refuel when he had seen me walking up the steps that separated the store from the pavement and had run inside to say hello. I began to relax as he told me about his adventures in the California music scene, about how he was cutting his first record and how he wanted me to come out and see him there sometime. I asked if anyone had made the trek to the states yet, and he looked away nervously before telling me that Manny had visited in the summer, but that they had broken up shortly after her arrival. Of course I had wanted to know the details, but since he seemed a bit embarrassed by the subject I let it drop. A distraction soon came in the form of a guy in his early twenties sticking his head around the door and telling Craig that they were loading up, to which the brunette replied that he'd be out in a second. Turning back to me, he said that they were only going to be in town for one night, but that he really wanted to hang out some more. He told me the name of the club they were playing at and asked if I would come out tonight to see him. I knew with every inch of my being that I should decline his offer, make up an excuse and bail out before I wound up getting hurt again, but against my better judgment I nodded my head in agreement. A smile overtook his face and he squeezed my shoulder affectionately while we made our way towards the store's entrance, telling me how happy he was that he had run into me and about the amazing time we were going to have tonight. I was dizzy with the flutter of emotions he always managed to set astir in me, and as he held open the door my mind was occupied with subjects other than the stairs before me.

I put a foot in front of me and time seemed to freeze when it failed to make contact with the ground. I stumbled forward, attempting to grab the door to steady myself but finding it had already swung shut and was out of my reach. My ankle crumpled under the weight of my off-balance frame, and my knees buckled as I tumbled downward, landing with a sickening "thud" on the filthy pavement preceding the gas pumps. I was in pain, but that was not what caused my eyes to fill with tears as shaking hands found their way to my stomach. This couldn't be happening.

I saw him run towards me through blurred eyes, kneeling down next to me and brushing the crimson strands of hair from my tear-stained face as he asked in a voice of genuine concern if I was okay. I heard him gasp aloud in shock and horror as the sticky fluid coursing from between my legs began to seep through my jeans, soaking the denim and surrounding cement with a deep wave of scarlet. I felt him lay a hand on top of my own, still clutching my now-empty belly, and the sinking feeling resurfaced once more. I closed my eyes and let the immense grief for something I thought I never wanted overtake me.

Looking back, though, I always knew Craig Manning would be my downfall.

_I'm broken hearted on the floor, my tears seep through the crack under my door,_

_Where I am locked in, shut down, I'm so tired of picking myself up off the ground_

**- "Enjoy your Day" Alkaline Trio

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I think it just might make my day if you reviewed this. Not sure though, so why don't you try it and find out?


	2. he said

So here it is, another two-shot. I can't help it, I really like this story and I just had to continue it! Let me apologize for the gigantic mistake I made in this story and "Evading." (Which, by the way, you should read first to get the full effect of this story) I live in the US, and came up with this concept before I had seen "Together Forever" and had only read spoilers on-line. For some reason, I got it mixed up in my silly little brain that Craig went off to LA for his music thing, not Vancouver. Oops. Please forgive me and look past it if you will, because the idea still works if you change the name of the location. Okay, so Degrassi's not mine and neither is the song, yadda, yadda, yadda. Here we go, enjoy!

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In the days after I left her, my vision was tinged with crimson.

Standing onstage night after night, I watched harsh lights radiate an eerie glow of manufactured cherry onto the hair of the girls before me. Sometimes I would hit the wrong note as I saw fire-colored limp locks lying almost obscenely against the stark white of hospital sheets. Hair that I stroked distractedly with shaking hands while she told me to leave her and go do my show, bloodshot eyes not meeting my gaze. When I looked at those girls, I thought of that hair, and the beautiful girl it belonged to.

Treading on pavements that lead to the back doors of clubs, I passed numerous stains, all of which seemed to turn a shade of ill-boding scarlet that commanded my stare as I carried my guitar case from the bus. I had stumbled more than once as I saw stomach-wrenching sticky pools emanating from a shuddering form on the ground. Pools in which I had knelt blindly beside her, bewildered at the tears that fell from eyes I had never seen cry before, until the moisture soaking through my jeans finally alerted my ignorant male brain to the direness of the situation at hand. When I saw those stains, I thought of the one she must have left at that gas station.

Sitting in the VIP lounge after a performance, random important males around me made vulgar cat-calls to the girls supplying us with drinks, each growing more provocative and nauseating than the one that preceded it. I gripped the chilled glass tightly with restrained fury as I saw red with hatred for the man who had done this to her. A man who had been lucky enough to conceive a child with this beautiful, multifaceted woman, and yet for his own selfish reasons had managed to abandoned the best thing that would ever walk into his pathetic life. When I heard those men and thought of him, I knew some of my loathing was really just echoing my anger at myself.

The tour I had welcomed as an escape from my thoughts now offered me no shelter. Everything reminded me of her, or of that night, or of last summer, or of ignorant I had been to my own feelings.

I attempted to get in touch with her, but without much luck. When I tried the hospital, they informed me that she had been discharged earlier that morning. Next, the cell number I had for her in high school only issued me the cheery electronic greeting that the number I had dialed was no longer in service. Finally, I called Marco for the number to her dorm, but he warned me disheartened that the only person to ever pick up the line was her roommate, a bored-sounding girl who always informed him that she was either in class or asleep. Still, I punched in the digits hopefully. He was right.

Shows, days, weeks, all began to run together before long. Life became a string of disappointments: another city that she wouldn't be in, another gig she wouldn't attend, another girl that wasn't her. I soon took to leaving the after-parties early and heading back to our hotel, often already asleep by the time my roommate, who had been brought along for on-the-road training, stumbled his way back to the room. If he noticed the change in me he didn't say anything, and for that I was grateful. The only person I wanted to talk to was her, and that obviously wasn't going to happen.

And then it did.

I was lying in yet another hotel bed, my eyes adjusted to the blackness I had been surrounded by for the past two hours well enough that I could count the cracks in the ceiling, when there was a tentative knock at the door. I rolled my eyes and grunted, revolted that my drunk-ass excuse for a roommate had yet again forgotten his card to get in, and most likely was in the company of some equally plastered blonde bimbo. Uttering a disgruntled, "Wait a minute," I my way over to the door, unlocked it and turned around before it had swung open all the way. Once back under the sheets, I realized that the door was still only partially ajar, and the light streaming in from the hallway silhouetted a lone figure standing behind the threshold.

"Umm, hello?" said the figure, in a voice decidedly female...and familiar.

I didn't think twice. I didn't consider that fact that her tone had been nervously hesitant, or that I was still in my boxers, or that our last meeting had been marked by tears and blood and hospital bed, or anything besides the fact that she was here, now, with me. Jumping from bed I rushed to her, crossing the short distance between us in a few strides and forcefully wrapped my arms around her. I pressed my cheek up against hers and buried my face in the hair that had been haunting my dreams for weeks. At first, she stiffened, and I worried that maybe I had acted too brashly, but then I felt her body go limp as she leaned into me. For a few breathless seconds we stood like that, before she pulled away soundlessly

Smiling like an idiot, I fumbled for the switch on the wall and watched hungrily as the harsh fluorescent lighting illuminated her. She was thinner than the last time I had seen her, that much I had felt when we were locked in embrace, but she was more pale now too, older-looking and more fragile. Her eyes swam with unshed tears, but she too was smiling. A small smile, but nonetheless it was one I recognized. She was still the same girl I had unknowingly fallen in love with.

Then there was the sound of a body bumping into the wall, and the door swung wide open as my roommate staggered towards us. She gave a small gasp and stared at him in shock, which quickly turned to disgust. I was surprised by her reaction, but assumed it has something to do with the little tolerance she must have for drunks after everything her mother must have put her though. Then my gaze shifted over to him. The expression he wore was one of shock as well, and the intense look that they shared perplexed me so much that I almost missed the subtle shift of his eyes to her stomach, and the confusion across his face that followed.

Then it dawned on me.

For the second time that night I didn't think before I instantly reacted. My hand curled itself into a tight fist of its own accord, and I moved toward him...but I was too late. Ellie had already flown at him, a perfectly aimed punch collided soundly with his face before he reeled and crashed down into the hall. Out cold.

"Elle, I didn't..." I began, trying to apologize, but found myself swiftly cut off by a powerful jab to the stomach.

Sputtering, I doubled over and she took the chance to place both small hands on my shoulders and forcefully push me backwards, causing me to fall back on my ass. Hard.

"What the hell!" I exclaimed, as she stood over me and grabbed a fistful of my hair, forcing my eyes up to meet hers.

"My therapist said that exacting physical revenge on all those who have caused me pain would only bring temporary relief and not do anything to solve my deep-seated emotional issues." Her hand jerked my head over and slammed it into the wall once before bringing it back to its original position and reclaiming my gaze.

"But obviously, she was a twat, because this feels fucking great."

My head aching, I started again. "But I..."

"Shut up," she lowered herself onto my lap, "Because I am giving you a chance to make it up to me." Her face was only inches from mine, beautiful eyes dark with something I had never seen before. They gleamed with an explosive mixture of dominance and anger and relief and...lust? "Now's your chance Manning," her voice was low and breathy, "don't fuck it up again."

And I didn't.

_We'll get over it, sad, strong, safe, and sober,  
We'll move forward, and know where we went wrong,_

**-"Mistakes we knew we were making" Straylight Run

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Yay, it's over! I finally think I have expressed everything I meant to when I first wrote "Evading," and I would love to hear your reactions to the outcome. Thanks!


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